


Putting Old Wounds To Rest

by ObsidianRomance



Series: Making Time 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to <a href="697904">What We Don't Know Can Hurt Us</a></p><p>A year after Sam suffered a surprising miscarriage, Dean comes face to face with the promise he made to Sam that even if it wasn't the right time for a baby, they could make it the right time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting Old Wounds To Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Wincest, cursing, ANGST, mpreg!Sam, past miscarriage, hurt/comfort, porn  
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I am just using them for fun.  
> Authors Note: I have been in an angsty mood. Behold....Angst with a glimpse of happiness.

Dean swings his blade in a swift course to decapitate the bastard of a vampire who just threw Sam into the wall.  It’s an action that was five seconds too late because Sam’s head has already connected with a shelving unit and there is a thick rivulet of blood pouring down his forehead.

It’s not Sam’s fault, not really.  Sam had been using himself as a distraction so Dean could retrieve the blade that went flying when the vampire Sam just slayed spasmed in an awkward death cry.  Dean’s blow coming just seconds after Sam went flying through the air, however?  Dean put all that blame on himself.

A splattering of dead blood graces the tense features of Dean’s face as he follows through with the decapitation, complete with annoyed curling of Dean’s upper lip and throaty growl.

Before the newly and _completely_ dead vampire hits the floor, Dean is hopping dead bodies and strewn furniture to get to Sam.

“Sammy?”  He falls to his knees and gets Sam pulled onto his lap, hands smacking at the sides of his brother’s face in an effort to bring him back around to the realm of consciousness. 

Sam’s form is slack, face blank of anything.  Dean’s hands search for a pulse and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when he find an erratic heartbeat on his wrist.

Still, Sam doesn’t move.  He hit his head extremely hard and Dean is worried that maybe he finally shook something loose that can never be set right again.

They’ve been in some dicey situations but Sam’s never taken this long to come around before.  Dean’s never been so close to letting vampires feed _his_ Sam their blood.  Losing each other is one of the peak perils of their _job_ but it doesn’t make dealing with it easier.

“Come on, Sammy!”  Dean smacks his brother’s face again.  He’s starting to panic.  Or go insane.  He keeps trying the same rotation of attempts to wake his brother, expecting a different result each time.  He lets out sound somewhere between a gasp and sob and clutches at Sam’s shoulders.  An idea goes off in his head as he digs around in his pocket in a rabbitish search for the smelling salts he remembers he has on him.

It takes a moment to steady his hands enough to open them and when Sam gasps awake, Dean’s heart starts beating again.  He lets out a crazy laugh of relief and keeps his brother steady against his chest.

“D-dean?”  Sam has a faraway look in his eyes, like it pains him to focus.  His hands are clutching Dean’s forearms while wheels spin in his brain in an attempt to clarify what just happened.

“Heya, Sam.”  Wiping at his face, Dean remembers how to breathe again, his chest shuddering to life with each inhale.  “Got yourself a little banged up.”

“A little?”  Sam winces and brings a hand to his head.  Something dangerous crosses his vision when he brings his fingers away and focuses on the redness his head wound just coated them in.  He shivers, “I…umm…”

“Yeah…I know.”  Dean does know.  He knows exactly where Sam’s brain went for a moment.  He’s seen that traumatized flashback look before.  “It’s okay.  We’re okay.”

“Yeah, I…”  Sam tries to push himself up but falters, falling back into Dean’s arm.

“Woah, easy there, big guy.”  Dean wipes at the blood on Sam’s forehead with his shirt sleeve.  “It looks like that vamp did one hell of a job on you.”

Sam scans the area and finds the headless bodies littering the scene.  “I’d say you did one better.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself.”  Dean smirks and helps Sam to his feet, keeping up his steady support but letting Sam find his footing on his own.

Sam wobbles for a moment before shaking his head to rid himself of double vision.  Wrinkling his nose in discomfort, Sam holds up a hand and pushes outward, as if the gesture could possibly make the last half hour disappear.  “Can we get out of here?  Go back to the motel?”

Sam doesn’t have to ask twice; Dean was already putting that suggestion into action before the last word left his brother’s lips.  They leave the abandoned house and plop themselves into the familiar comfort of the Impala, Sam slouching into the reassuring layout of the passenger seat.

During the ride to their motel, Dean keeps stealing glances at Sam.  At first it is because he needs to make sure his brother is still with him.  Later, it becomes more of a need to make sure Sam is still _Sam_.  He hadn’t exactly been thrilled about the look that crossed Sam’s face earlier.  Adding that to the amount of time Sam spent unconscious and Dean is ready to put hunting on hold for a few weeks while Sam remembers what it is like to be a walking, talking, breathing human being.

The glances start innocently enough, but they eventually give way to Dean’s fingers moving on their own accord and claiming the spans of Sam’s left thigh.  Sam feels solid under his touch and by the way Sam reacts to the connection, they are both in need of it.

In the thirty minutes it takes them to drive back to the motel, Sam appears to have regained all of his senses.  He’s alert again, head snapping when he catches a deer’s movement on the side of the road.

It helps Dean breathe easier and by the time they get the door to their motel open, Dean feels Sam is sturdy enough to handle his weight crashing against him.

With the door closed and the façade that they are tucked away from the rest of the world firmly in place, Dean feels safe enough to give into the nagging in his gut to pull Sam into his arms and never let him go.  It is a completely sappy need, but Dean is lacking something at the moment that only close proximity to Sam can fill.

“Hey…Hey, Dean.  It’s okay.  We’re okay.”  Sam cards his fingers through Dean’s hair and pulls him into his arms, hugging his older brother just as fiercely as Dean is hugging him.

Dean realizes Sam’s words are the exact ones he used a little under an hour ago in an attempt to reassure Sam.  It’s this thing they do.  They reassure each other in the only way that really matters: by making sure they are _both_ okay because neither one could ever truly be okay without the other.  They may be bandage words, the type of words that don’t come with absolute truth, but believing they will be okay is enough for them to keep up the fight.

Exhaling across Sam’s neck, Dean tugs Sam so that he fits flush against his chest.  Something snaps in his resolve and watching Sam struggle earlier makes Dean pull away enough to press a slow kiss to his brother’s lips.  Sam’s reaction is instant and he surrenders to the gesture. 

With their bodies so close they are melding into one and their forehead’s pressed together, neither man is willing to sever their connection.  Instead, they keep up the slow, languid kissing, taking slow shaky breaths of the same air.  They don’t need words because they are on the exact same page.

Their hands pull, tug, and struggle with their clothing but they eventually coordinate their actions enough to get belt buckles undone, jean zippers down, and shirt buttons popped open. 

If Dean had one thought in his mind that Sam couldn’t handle where their actions are intent on landing them, he would stop.  It would be difficult, but he’d do it.  But Sam’s actions are more resolute than Dean’s.  When Dean hesitates to question if he should stick to slow kisses instead of the dirtier connection he really craves, Sam uses the opportunity to yank the rest of Dean’s shirt open.  Buttons rip and bounce off the motel room floor, giving Dean a perfect understanding of how much Sam can handle right now.

Things speed up for Dean.  He makes quick work of keeping up with Sam and soon they are both nude and shivering even though the room is warm.

Dean licks his way along the pulse in Sam’s neck and the younger man moans so deliciously that he snuffs out any questions of if he is alive or not.  They start kissing roughly, sloppiness making them human but familiarity making them lovers.  Not in the mood to take his time, Dean spin Sam so that he is facing the wall, his legs spread in an inverted V and his palms bracing his weight against the wall.

They both know what comes next.  Dean loves to watch the way Sam falls apart for him; prepping his brother’s entrance while he is against the wall gives the younger man enough freedom to make it as much of a show as he wants.  Sam taunts Dean with the curve of his ass when he pitches forward, arches his back and presents the hidden area between his legs with a wanton exhale of desire.

Dean’s on his knees for the second time that night, but this time his heart speeds up with lust, not fear.  He licks a stripe over the furled entrance several times before teasing it with several jabs of his tongue.  While he does this, he slicks up his fingers and moans at the way Sam’s body is reacting to him.  The panting coming from his brother’s mouth is enough to make him keep up his licking, but the need to be inside his brother overrides that.  When he pulls away, Sam doesn’t have a moment to complain because his fingers replace Dean’s tongue, filling Sam and curving more deeply.

Sam widens his stance and lets Dean work.  Sometimes he fights back and tries to turn the tables, but at times like these he doesn’t.  He’s learned that sometimes Dean needs to have power over something.  And sometimes Sam needs to feel like Dean has everything under his control.

Words fall away, completely replaced by stunted moans and gasps.  Both of their breathing goes erratic, and Dean pulls on a condom before Sam makes him come from his noises alone.

The need for Dean to be inside of Sam is more intense than usual.  It is the only way they’ve ever found to expose their core.  After the miscarriage it had been hard, they both felt too lost to let themselves be vulnerable enough to have actual sex.  Right now, however, Dean needs that connection because hunting can take away a lot of things but it can never take way his primal needs.

Sam looks over his shoulder, face completely trusting, and it is all the invitation Dean needs.  He lines up his dick with Sam’s stretched entrance and pushes in slowly. 

There is no pain and Dean needs that fact more than anything else.

With a grunt, Sam shoves backwards, urging Dean on.  It takes a few moments but their movements sync up and Dean’s pushing forward in time with Sam’s reverse push.

They move like that for a while.  Dean’s fingers are curled around Sam’s hips and he is focusing on the way his brother’s back muscles move, completely transfixed by his shoulder blades shifting with each thrust.

Sam is alive.  He is flushed and strong – so much different than he was a year ago.

A year ago, he was a pale, bleeding out mess.  He was an exoskeleton, hollow and grasping for something to make him feel whole again.

Looking down at Sam, Dean’s heart skips a beat when he remembers how lifeless his brother was a year ago.  The remembrance comes with whispers of the promise he’d made to Sam.  He’d promised that in one year, even if it wasn’t the right time, it would be the right time.

Abruptly, he pulls out of Sam.  His heart speeds up because he has no idea what he is about to do – not exactly.  With a firm grasp on Sam’s shoulder, he forces his brother to pivot so that his back collapses against the wall.  Staring at each other with feral glares, their movements are frozen before Dean stalks forward and scissors a leg between Sam’s.  He rips the condom off and throws it to the side before leaning forward and sliding his length against Sam’s leaking one.

“It’s been a year, Sam.”  He honestly has no idea why he is doing this or how he expects it to go.  All he knows is that he made a promise and he is going to put that ball in Sam’s court.  With everything that happened after the vampires, Dean now realizes how important _life_ is.  It’s important enough that it doesn’t need to play on a Winchester time schedule.

“Dean…wha?”  Sam looks up with wide eyes.  He gasps in surprise when Dean yanks him closer, wrapping an arm around Sam’s left leg and hoisting it so that it hooks over his hip bone.  It is a bit awkward but Dean can push forward and rub the head of his cock against Sam’s opening.  There’s the promise that he will sink inside, bare and unprotected.  He nudges forward enough to tease Sam, the crown of his dick catching on the rim and stretching the muscle wide before backing off.  Dean isn’t making another move until Sam’ does something other than blink in shock.

“Damn it, Sam.  Tell me.  Tell me if this is what you want.”  Dean hips are jutting into Sam and forcing his younger brother against the wall.  He has Sam’s jaw held firmly in his grasp and uses that advantage to press a crushing kiss to Sam’s parted lips.  He licks into the panting man’s mouth, tongue airing on the edge of roughness.  “Tell me.  It’s been a year.  If you want it…I’ll give it to you.”  Dean’s voice cracks and he lets out a choked breath.  “But you’ve gotta tell me.”

Dean’s heart clenches up.  He knows exactly what type of conversation he is all but forcing his brother to participate in.  He knows what he is asking his brother to clarify.  It is a foolish road to go down right now but he’s afraid Sam isn’t the only one that will lose part of himself if they don’t.

It’s not the right time, but it might never be.

Sleeping with Sam for the first time was by far the _wrong_ thing to do in society’s eyes, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the correct choice.  At least it felt correct for Dean and he didn’t have any plans on ever looking back.

He knows Sam pretends he’s not broken anymore, that the scars from the miscarriage have faded away, but that isn’t entirely true.  Dean can taste the hurt in the core of Sam’s kisses, when Sam’s brain is foggy enough to waver in its ability to hide the truth.  When Sam is exposed, flayed raw and vulnerable on the bed in the darkness of their nights spent together, Dean knows his brother is still knitting himself back together.

It hurts Dean too.  Sometimes he closes his eyes and sees blood.  That fact in itself hadn’t been alarming, but his gut knows the blood he keeps seeing isn’t that of their run of the mill version of badies.  It’s Sam’s.  It’s their child’s, or what could have been their child.  It’s too vibrantly red to make any sense but the color sticks in his mind and makes him want to vomit.

He’s fooled himself into thinking he is strong enough to not care.  He even went on believing that the miscarriage was for the best.  It probably was but that doesn’t make Dean less angry that something else made that decision for him.  When the imprint of the bloody splotch between Sam’s legs tattooed itself on Dean’s brain, however, he couldn’t believe his own lies any more.

Sam wanted that baby, but maybe so did he – at least he wanted it enough admit the possibility.

“Come on, Sammy.  Tell me you want it.  I want it. I…” The words leave Dean’s mouth and he is just as shocked as Sam.  Instead of going on damage control and pulling out of the promise, he gives a deranged laugh.  “Fuck… _I want it_.”

Sam looks like his heart just exploded.  He practically cries as he tightens his leg around Dean and forces him closer.  Leaning close to Dean’s lips, Sam’s hot breath fans over them and his words come out in a whisper.  “Me too.”  He seals their lips together, sneaking his tongue into Dean’s mouth and licking moans out of him.

Dean growls and jerks his hips.  He uses a hand to help position his arousal at Sam’s entrance and pushes inside in one vulgar thrust. 

“Ummph!”  Sam’s stance falters so that he has to hook his arms around Dean’s neck.  The feeling of being filled by Dean and knowing there is no barrier, no matter how thin, between them is doing funny things to him.  He whimpers with need before he arches his back and tilts his hips upward so that Dean can fill him with more ease.  “Me too, Dean.  I want.  I want.”  Sam falls apart when Dean’s dick brushes up against his prostate and his legs quiver. 

“Want what, Sam?”  Dean sucks in the corner of his lip and pistons his hips till they build a brutal pace.

“I want this.”  Sam chokes on a moan, doubly so because Dean’s hand curls around his cock and strokes it devilishly.  “I want a baby.”  His breath comes out in pants, making it hard to get his words out.  “We probably shouldn’t and it’s crazy…but I want this.”

“Okay.”  Dean nods before smirking and marrying himself to the idea.  It’s a done deal for him now.  It’s happening.  “Okay.”  He shoves into Sam.  “Gonna give it to you.”

Three hours ago, Dean didn’t know this is how the night would turn out.  Now, there are no other options.  He needs to make Sam whole again and he knows it will make him whole again too.  Maybe it was subconscious at first, but he knows they need this.  It isn’t going to be anywhere near the definition of easy, but it will be worth it.  The realization makes him dizzy and he can’t keep both himself and Sam upright.  Instead, he pulls Sam against him and swings them so swiftly that their bodies stay connected as he lands Sam on his back at the edge of the motel’s bed.

Sam’s long legs are clumsy and awkward but he gets them over Dean’s shoulders and keens when Dean sinks home again.

Leaning forward, Dean swallows Sam’s words, which seem to have gotten stuck on a repeated  admittance of “I want” and are punctuated with moans.

They start moving frantically when Dean realizes they’ve never fucked for more than just the purpose of getting off and enjoying each other’s bodies.

This could potentially be the most important thing they do.  More important even than saving the world.  He knows he is aggrandizing things, but that’s how it feels when he feels Sam clench around his dick and unravel into orgasm.

Sam comes first, aided by Dean’s fist.

“Please, Dean…Please!  Yes!”  Sam tightens up and shoots his release between their bellies.

For one brief second Dean thinks he can stop everything; he can pull out and come all over Sam’s chest.  But while he may be physically capable of that, he doesn’t want to do that.  He knows there is a huge possibility that this one time won’t get Sam pregnant, but the gesture speaks of his commitment to their decision. 

Dean comes as a chain reaction to Sam shouting his name.  It always does him in and he presses their lips together as he spills inside the younger man.  His hips make abbreviated thrusts before stilling while he comes as deep as he possibly can.  He opens his eyes to see a blissed out Sam smiling up at him.  His younger brother looks exhausted, for more than just physical reasons, but he looks happy.

Sam reaches up with both hands to pull Dean down for a gentle kiss.  “You just came inside me.”

“Yeah, I…”

Sam cuts him off.  “You just came inside me and I love you.”  He looks scared for a moment but then Dean nudges him further onto the bed and drapes his body around him.  The fear disappears instantly.

Dean knows he would never live it down if people were privy to the way things work between he and Sam when they are alone.  It’s exactly why he likes privacy and four walls.  Saddling up next to Sam, he buries his nose in his hair and inhales.  There is the obvious smell of sex and sweat, but with Dean’s nose so close to Sam’s newest wound, the metallic tang of blood still overpowers everything else.  He hates it but he can’t do anything about it more than kissing it softly and rooting around deeper to find _his_ Sam.

They are so quiet they can hear each other’s hearts.  They both know there are a million things that can happen to bring an abrupt halt to their plan.  More importantly, thought, they know there is one giant possibility that they’ll dodge all those dangers.

Dean pulls Sam closer and whispers in his ear.  “I’ve got you.  It’s okay.  We’re okay.” 

Those words mean so much more.  They are a new promise that neither Sam nor Dean plan on betraying.


End file.
